“Anyhow, here’s the paper. It ’ud be a shame if Donegal was not to have a hand in the turn-out when it comes. Bedad, I’d move across to Antrim if it came to that.”
“And as for officers, sure we’re well off for them. Isn’t Larry Flanagan here a rale born secretary; and Jake Finn makes an iligant treasurer; and as for captain—”
“Ah, I can name you the man for that.”
“Who now? for it’s not iverybody that’ll suit.”
“Tim Gallagher’s your man.”
If I started at this, the sound was lost in the general acclamation which the proposal evoked.
“Faith, and you’ve named the very boy. Young as he is, his heart’s in the business.”
“And more by tokens, he’s well spoke of by them that know. I’m even told Lord Edward has a good word for him.”
“If there’s anything against him, it is that he’s brother to that scurvy informer that set Gorman on to us, and who, I hear, is still about. Tim will have to go the whole hog if he’s to lead us. There’s hunting down to be done, I warn you, as well as fighting.”
“Anyhow, Tim’s the boy for us, and I propose him. He’s due back this week, if he’s not caught by his honour’s ferrets.”